The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1887-06-30

with feverish anxiety, and with an ca
ger interest that she made no attempt
to conceal awaited his reply.
''Listen, Relief"
The man had brought his chair
close to the small pine table that
, stood between them and now held a
| letter in his hand. The woman sal
motionless on the box, directly in
front, intently watching his move
ments, her face betraying the vivid
interest she felt. She uttered nc
sound, but the quick breathing that
agitated her frame told how deeply
her emotions were stirred.
Five minutes elapsed before the
mans voice was sufficiently under
control to permit his continuing.
Then, still holding the open letter, but
without glancing ut ii, and with eyes
concentrated on knotty imperfection
in the table before him, he began:
"When, on that never-to-be-fOrgot
ten night, you accidentally overheard
my words of passion for Edith Mel
rose, until then your dearest friend,
you perhaps, and with good reason,
thought it the outcome of an Illicit
love. long concealed from you. Yet
such, l swear to you, Relief, was not
the case.
i will not attempt to deny that 1
had always admired your friend, but
it was only in the manner that would
regard handsome picture or an ele-
giant work of art.
''FOr, as you know, she was beau
tiful. strikingly so, and my artist eye
had long been attracted by her splen-
did physique, but until that fatal eve
ming never had 1 had an unholy
thought regarding her. Whether it
was the wine 1 had drank, or the
CLEAN Of her eyes that led me on, /
know not, nor will l try to palliate
my offense by offering excuses. Du-
ring the temporary lull following a
waltz, strolled out in the gardens
with her and almost before / knew it,
had seized her hand and in burning
words declared my passion.
BARELY had l snatched one kiss
from her lips, when you, Relief, like
an avenging spirit, burst upon us and
in vehement tones demanded the ex-
PLANTATION of such a scene.
. Edith fed, and / tried to humble
some incoherent words. But your
mood had changed and without wait
ing, you scorned my advances and
passed into the house, never deigning
me q look.
THAT night slept in the room ad-
joining yours; your door was locked
and you refused to listen to any ex-
plantations.
''Next day l went as usual to my
downtown. studio, but l could not
work and returned home early. Twas
too late, however; you had gone, leav-
ing note saying in a few lines you
would never see me again and that all
useless.
ITO your friends 1 accounted for
your sudden disappearance by saying
that you had been telegraphed for by
a dear friend, who was at the point of
death, and that you would stay until
she improved or died.
THAT was six months ago. Ten
days after you left, Edith Melrose was
taken i'll, and despite unremftting care
and the best of physicians, she died.
Two days before her death she sent for
me and placed this letter in my hand,
saying, Stephen, can never forgive
myself for having listened To your
avowals and for having wickedly en-
ticed them. l have implored Gods
forgiveness for my sinful conduct, and
/ want you never to rest moment un-
til you have found your wife and have
given her this letter.
''Relief. ! never saw her again and
as God is my witness, that kiss you
saw me press upon her lips was the
first and only one that ever passed be-
tween us. l have traced you from
place to place and finally learned,
through the merest accident, that you
had come TO Dakota and taken up a
claim"
He paused, raised his eyes to his
wife's face and silently passed the let
ter for which she had mechanically
outstretched her hand; then his head
sank, face down, between his arms
upon the table and a long-suppressed
sob escaped him.
During this recital Relief had been
softly crying and now through her
tears she tried to read the letter. 1t
was as follows;
eMy poor, wronged friend: Lying here, as
! FIRMLY believe, upon my death-bed, ask you
as you hope for pardon hereafter, to forgive
your once dear Edith the bitter wrong she has
inflicted upon you. want Stephen to hand
you THIS letter with MS own ndnQS. He Will
tell you how brief the extent of our wrong.
doing was h put % to me. the memo memory Of its sin
out the stain. My silly vanity has been the
cause Of all my trouble and of yours. Not
content with the crowd of admirers at my
feet, ! determined to add your husband to the
number and deliberately iured him on. Little
did dream what the result would be: God
has punished me for my presumption, but he
will yet comfort your soul. Your husband g
passion for me was but momentary and soon
convinced and earnestly pray you win be
reconclled to him again. The doctor tells me
1cannot live much longer, so with my almost
forgive my transgression and return to your
husbands arms. Goodbye, my once dear
friend, am too weak to write more Your
penitent dying EDITH.
Relief was now sobbing quite audi
bly,. Stephens face was still buried
on the table and without a word, she
quietly stepped by him, opened the
door and passed out into the night.
The wind, meantime, had risen and
was now blowing as only those who
have experienced it, can know how.
The tall, dry grass was bowed down
before the furious blasts and emitted
that peculiar swishing noise so COM
mon on these prairies, like the sound
of rushing water.
buC TO nelleI IeVereu DFOW IL was d
welcome change from the close air OF
the cabin. Her blood was in tumult
and her nerves unstrung by the scene
she had just passed through. As she
stepped over the short, cut grass
around the shack, which snapped be-
meath her feet like dry tinder, ques'
ton upon question rose continually
before her. Could she ever forgive
this man who had once forgotten his
vowsP How could she ever have con
fidence in him again? Would not the
next pretty woman he chanced to meet
again entice him from herP
These questions revolved through
her brain in rapid succession, and tor
tured her soul beyond endurance, fol
in spite of all Stephens shortcoming'
Relief realized she loved him.
Slowly she retraced her steps to
ward the house, still undecided how tC
proceed, and as she did so her eyes
caught the reflection of deep rec
glare in the sky to the south, while
lower down a heavy volume of smoke
was discernible. It was that scourg'
of the western plain-the Prairie Fire
The wind, however, came from thu
opposite direction, so, although it blew
IL -lN. X.Nl